


A Fearful Heart

by calie15



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Established Relationship, F/M, Love, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:46:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calie15/pseuds/calie15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once Bucky gives in to his feelings for Jemma he is shaken by the fear his decision has left him with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fearful Heart

Bucky sat up quickly. There was no danger he realized immediately, but he reacted as if there was, and quickly he knew what was wrong. It wasn’t that there is danger, it wasn’t the change in the environment. It was still his room and the temperature in the room was the same, the sheets are the same, the lighting is the same, the smell the same, but there is something more there. 

He looked over at his side and releases a breath, not necessarily relaxed, more fearful acceptance. The difference in the room is the body at his side, the extra heat, the bare skin. Her skin is cool now, but when she fell asleep at his side it was overheated and sticky with sweat. He remembered her shuddered breaths fading until she was finally asleep. It was those calm, deep, slow breaths that had slowly lulled him into his own dreamless sleep.

Now he was anxious. 

Bucky pushed the covers away from his body, careful not to disturb the portion over hers, and stood up, naked. In the past, being void of his armor, naked, left him feeling exposed, insufficient. He’d been a machine, a specimen, a thing. That feeling was only exasperated by the cybernetic arm attached to him. Clothed, the arm was tolerable, but bare, it was a horrid extension of his body. 

He grabbed his boxer briefs from the floor and slipped them on, it was a small thing, but it helped.

As he reached the doorway to his bedroom he looked back at the naked body still laying there, small, perfect, innocent. The only imperfection he was aware of was a small scar on her cheek, left behind by a gaudy ring, which has been attached to a cruel hand. The owner of that ring was dead. Bucky had pulled the trigger. It seemed so long ago, but it had only been months.

Bucky closed the door gently behind him and went into the living room and was finally able to breathe. Guilt was left in his wake though. He should have been in the bed, he should have stayed with her. She deserved that much. If he was a better person he would have. It was his own demons that drove him from the room, from what he craved.

He sat down on the sofa slowly and leaned back. Finally settled, he sighed, laid his head back, and stared ahead into the darkness. 

A part of him itched to go back to his bed, back to her. That was what he had ultimately wanted, what he had craved. He’d spent countless days and nights fighting the knowledge of and attraction that slowly grew into something more. Something that he couldn’t ignore or fight, and eventually something that he needed. None of that had changed. Bucky still wanted her. Except as he slid inside of her for the first time that night he had remember his fear. Fear of going to far, fear of falling deeper. Fear of losing her. 

The thought alone made his fingers curl, fists clench. Bucky knew that in a previous life he hadn’t been this way. He’d never been so attached to a women, so fearful…

A door opened and Bucky tensed, ready for an attack, but he forced himself to remain at ease. Instincts wouldn’t help him here. Padded footsteps made him turn and he looked up to see her standing there, now clad in the t-shirt she had worn earlier, but nothing else. It brushed the tops of her thighs and he suspected there was nothing beneath it. Her neat hair was now frazzled and her eyes bleary from sleep.

He watched her come around to stand in front of him and she raised an eyebrow, lips turning up in a gentle smile. Always so gentle. 

“Are you hiding from me?” Jemma asked. He licked his lips and seemed to pause. What started as a joke, suddenly became more serious. “What is it?”

Concern slid over her face, just as he knew it would if she found him. There had been too many questions as he’d taken her to his bed. To many things were left unsaid. Bucky sat up and wrapped his right hand behind her knee to pull her between his legs. Sitting, he was about a foot beneath her. 

Jemma reached down for his cybernetic arm, grasped the hand and lifted it to her legs, pressing it against her knee much in the same fashion his other was settled. He looked down at it briefly, then up at her again, his brow drawn together as if troubled. “Two hands are better then one Bucky. It’s been scientifically proven.”

Against his will he smiled up at her and pulled her closer. Small hands slid over his shoulders, sensation fading on one as her fingers brushed over his left shoulder, and he tensed until they slid up his neck and into his hair. She held them at the back of his head and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. It made his chest hurt. Everything about her made him hurt. Bucky hadn’t been on the receiving end of anything pleasant in decades, and everything about Jemma surpassed anything he might have imagined he might want. She had always smiled at him in the beginning, rested a calming hand on his arm when he flinched. She had talked gently to him, kept him aware of everything happening. The fist time she’d put her arms around him, pressed a kiss against his cheek, he knew she had the ability to shatter him. Soon after she had a bullet pointed at her head. Rage had coursed through his veins and he had snapped her attackers neck in a instant. 

“What’s wrong?” She whispered as she pressed her forehead against his. His eyes, as always, had a far off look to them and an emotion she felt she just couldn’t grasp or understand. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he admitted.

“Nothing out of the ordinary for you, right?” She asked, and again he just looked up at her. “Bucky…” she swallowed and for the first time felt nervous, “are you okay with this?”

It was the question, the fear, the doubt in her tone and in her eyes that finally made him take action. Bucky lifted his hand to her head and cupped the back of it as he simultaneously wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Their lips met and it was easier to pour his intention into a kiss than explain himself. She whimpered softly, fingers clenching in his hair, and he was reminded of those same fingers digging into his shoulder blades, nails biting his skin. 

Already Jemma could feel need stirring within her, warming her belly. Thoughts of Bucky’s body over her, of him inside of her, the feel of him stretching her, it was enough to make her wet, but she pulled away, gasping. “Bucky…”

“It’s not you Jemma,” he said said finally.

“Isn’t that what they all say?” She quipped, but still she was unsure.

He wrapped a hand around her knee to drag it onto the sofa beside him. The other leg came willingly and she straddled him, coming to settle on his lap. “It is when they have sixty years worth of dark secrets Jemma.” Her arms settled around his neck and she looked down at him. “I’m… trying to adjust.”

“You don’t have to run from me,” Jemma said in response, still in doubt.

“I’m not,” he whispered and shook his head. Raising a hand to her cheek he cradled it gently. “I couldn’t if I tried.” Finally, she smiled down at him, and it eased the pain in his chest, the guilt, the worry. Then she kissed him, pressing her body against his own, and everything faded to the background. She held him tightly and rocked her hips against his.

It was with only a few movements that she felt him hardening beneath her. Already she was wet, and the friction of the clothing between them was infuriating. With one rough push she could feel the cloth brush her clit and she gasped against his lips, her womb clenching. Jemma pushed herself onto her knees and reached between them without a second thought.

Bucky flexed his fingers on her body as she pulled him free. As she place him at her entrance his hands immediately went to her hips, unsure at first what he intended to do with them. Then she impaled herself on him, taking the entirely of him within her in an instant, and dropped her head back, gasping. He clutched her hips and thrust up into her as he pulled her down. As soon as her lips found his she was moving on him, faster, harder.

Jemma held herself close to him, and only parted as he grabbed for the hem of the her shirt and yanked it up and off of her body. As soon as it hit the floor she was kissing him again, moaning into his mouth as her now naked body pressed against his.

Bucky held her hips, pushing and pulling with each roll of them. Then she pulled away, buried her face into his neck and was gasping, moving faster. With her whimpering in his ear and clutching his back with sharp nails, it was easy to let go. He yanked her hips harder, listened to her cry out, and then he was coming inside of her, panting. 

Jemma stayed there on him as her heart began to slow, pressed against his chest and her cheek resting on his shoulder. 

"I don't know how good I'll be at this."

Jemma raised her head lazily and looked at him. "I thought you were pretty good just now, even if I did all the work."

Despite himself he smiled slightly and ran his right hand up her back and down again. "You know that's not what I mean. Although, I'd like to add that by the noises you made last night I know I'm good at that part."

Jemma smiled in return, but slowly sobered. "I know. Do you trust me?”

Trust, that was something that didn’t come easily to Bucky. There were only a hand full of people he trusted now, but Jemma was at the top of that list. “Yes.”

“Then trust me on this. We can make this work, just don’t hide from me.”

He nodded, acknowledging the necessity of her request. Fear was his problem when it came to Jemma. Fear of giving himself over to her, fear of being inadequate, fear of hurting her, fear of losing her, fear of not being able to protect her. So much fear. And he knew what that fear would do, he knew the ugly things it could turn into. 

He raised his right hand to her cheek and brought her lips to his, kissing her. She pulled away just slightly, with her forehead pressed against his, and smiled, and again that one smile had the ability to ease his concerns and dark thoughts.


End file.
